Snippet #2170565

Braxx paced back and forth, awaiting the arrival of the captain. This wasn't anything important, and he knew it. It was just another day in this big refrigerator. Upon his third or fourth pass, his eye caught on the frame that hung on his wall. There behind the glass were the dog tags of every man that fell in battle under his command, kept in memory of their sacrifice and a permanent reminder to the Major of what he owes to the Covenant. Two of their's for every one of ours. His fingers lightly slid along the cold glass, in remembrance of each good man who gave their life for humanity. As he moved away from the frame, there was a strange buzz in the air. Almost like it was electrified, but more so. It was cold, foreboding even, and left it's sickly presence to stir at the bottom of his gut. It could have been a million things, a omen or warning of what was to come, but the Major wasn't a superstitious man. He simply shook it off as one of the MRE's returning to have it's revenge, which they often did.

"Sir, Captain Conway is here."

"Ah.... yes....."

"Major? Is everything alright?"

"Yes, yes. Just some.... bad memories. Send the Captain in."

A smirk forms on the Major's face as Dalton enters his office. Braxx holds up two beers, still having that sly smile. He knew they aren't allowed to drink on duty, but there wasn't ever going to be any action here. Braxx tossed the Captain a beer, which he caught with ease. You throw enough ammo clips back and forth while ducking plasma fire, and catching anything else becomes a cinch.

"I know it's not your brand, but it's all I got. At least I can guarantee it's cold..."

Half an hour passed of the two BSing back and forth, as usual. Old war stories, from back when they were actually in the damn war.

"So now we're pinned behind the carcass of our goddamn tank, right? Monkeys and midgets pouring the light show all over us, all led by this ugly-ass bearded one. Big bastard, huge! And in a nice and shiny suit of armor, with a damn turret, to boot. Three of ours are wounded pretty bad, and we lost our sniper cover. The apes were listening to every word of gibberish that old bastard shouted out, so we figured he must be one of those chieftains. Phillips said something about how they might break ranks if we could off their boss, and a second later they stopped shooting. All- well, most of them. Figured they screwed up and didn't sync their reloads, and before I know it our rookie pulls out a freaking baseball. I asked him what the hell he was thinking, and he told me he could kill the chieftain. With the ball. You can see why I was skeptical, but what the hell? We were pretty screwed, anyway."

Braxx pauses in his story, popping the cap on his next bottle. Taking one swig from the fresh beer, he grins with a light chuckle. Shaking his head, he looks back to Dalton to continue his tale.

"So we give the kid support, and that bearded freak starts monologuing. Just yapping up a storm, you know. 'Weak humans, we smash you' blah blah yadda yadda. Anyway, I'm looking at the kid, wondering why he ain't doing anything. He's just sitting there in his little pitcher pose, rubbing the damn ball and shaking his head. I finally snap and order him to throw it, and..... whew, thunk. Right.... down... the son of a bitch's throat. I. Shit. You. Not. So now he's grabbing at his throat, all his buddies are freaking out cause apparently nobody taught them CPR, and we're laughing our asses off. I almost rolled out of cover, and took a hit to the arm. Sure enough, the remaining nimrods are panicking and we start dropping what we can. About five minutes later, a falcon passed by and mopped up the rest. To this day, I still can't believe the rook pulled that off. I still can't believe it worked..."

The Major paused once more, looking up towards the ceiling and lifting his bottle.

"Here's to you, kid. Where ever you ended up."

Suddenly, a luminescent form manifests in the corner of the room, it's blue female body being constructed in front of them. Amanda's hair waves slightly, as if from some non-existent breeze. She gives a warming smile, nodding at the two respectfully.

"Major. Captain. I'll pretend that isn't alcohol your both drinking. I have the report from ATLAS as to our communication issues. Short range comms are up, but understaffed. All of ONI's personnel at the base are currently busy in the final phases of their project."

"Any word on what the damn thing is, yet?"

"Classified."

"Why'd I ask?"

"Why, indeed. Though there are more... interesting bits of news from them. It seems that all off-planet communications are down as well. This has several of the researches worried, as such a thing is unusual for a storm to disrupt. Perhaps this is- ....Oh. Major, I have Ricks on comms channel. He says it's urgent, shall I patch him through?"

The Major placed the bottle on his desk and straightened up. Even though he believed a beer or two would never alter his judgement, it was still bad for his image to be seen drinking by his men. Shoulder's back, chest out, and arms behind his back, he stood facing the monitor.

"Proceed..."

The screen came to life, giving the image of a marine with a covered face. Fog leaking from the bit of cloth that covered his mouth.

"Major Braxx, Sir. I.... think I know why we've been cut off. Your going to want to see this...."

The camera's point of view shifted as it was moved over the small ridge the marine was hiding behind. What was being shown were several blurred figures trudging through the snow, which became clearer as the camera focused. The image sharpened, and revealed these to be Covenant forces. A small scouting party by the looks of it, mostly jackals and brutes. One of the bird-headed creatures trips, falling beak-first into the white powder.
"Stop wasting time!" bellows the brute at his back, launching the scrawny critter with a powerful kick and sending it flying. Another hairy monster roars at the first. "Keep your voice down, they can hear us."

Braxx looks at the monitor in disbelief. The only question ringing through his head being "how?" It simply isn't possible, but there they are. The Covenant has found Outpost 314.

"My God..." utters the Major, still unable to believe what he's seeing. The camera's view shifts once again back to Ricks.

"Major.... they're heading away from us. I..... I think we've already been scouted, sir. And.... there's more. Give me a sec..."

The camera reverts once again to the marines visor, as he crawls silently through the deep snow. Peering down over a ledge, the screen fills with the terrible visage of a large ground force, being comprised of mainly ghosts and grunts. The course of their slow, waddling march is unmistakable. Their heading for the fort.

"Theirs a lot of light infantry, down their. I think they're gonna test our defenses. I don't see any he- Gagh!"

Ricks cries out, his visor showing the pink spike protruding from his shoulder. Blood corrupts the snow, as he rolls over to behold the face of a very unhappy brute. The soldier can scarcely do anything but choke and gurgle out his protest, as the beast raises it's spiker. The screen cuts out.

"Corporal? Corporal! Damn it!" Braxx yells, a fiery yearning for vengeance already forming as he springs into action.

"Amanda, how far away was this transmission?"

"Less than two klicks out. I'd estimate they'll quicken their pace, seeing as they know we're aware."

"Agreed. Amanda, set the base to high alert and tell ATLAS what's really going on. Captain, get the troops together and prep our defenses. Keep squads hunkered down in the trench till we can offer enough support for their charge. Tell Wolf-Team Alpha and Bravo to hold their fire until the enemy is in their crossfire, giving our men on the ground heavy sniper cover. Have them focus on counter-sniping those damn birds! I don't want to be ducking my god damn head every three seconds. We can't let them think we're at a disadvantage, so we have to put them down hard! It's time to see if ONI built this piece of scrap on a budget or not."

Having given his standing orders, Braxx proceeded to gear himself up with his personal supplies. It felt almost too long since he had to don combat armor, but it was a long missed memory. Locked, cocked, and armed for bear, he proceeded through the yard as the alarm sounded. Men were rushing to battle stations, taking posts in the towers and walls. The unmistakable smell of cheap cigarettes gave a clear location of Corporal Jack Carter, the only person crazy enough to smoke around extremely flammable ammunition.

"Carter! Gear up and have your squad spaced out in the trench. Do not reveal your presence till I give the say so. I don't want to miss the look of 'oh shit' on their face when they see we brought hellbringers, so don't screw it up."

The Major took his position on the forward wall. This was the first time he'd seen combat in months and he wanted nothing more than to be on the ground with his men, but this elevated view gave him the ability to better direct his men's efforts. He lit up another cigar as the blast shields began to retract, opening up the field of fire. The blizzard made it impossible to see out into the distance, but they were out there. The Covenant. Braxx could feel it. He pulled out his PDF and opened communication with the sniper teams. The names and status of both teams were displayed, and he could see the team leaders were taking their positions.

"Alpha, Bravo, report. Do you have eyes on the Covy's position?"

A cold, monotone voice replied back to him "No joy. Alpha wolves got nothing in our scopes, Sir."

"Damn. Waddell, what can you and Bravo see from the West?"